


Release

by oooknuk



Series: Held [3]
Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Past Abuse, Past Drug Use, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: Getting free is harder





	Release

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters you recognise will belong to Alliance. No infringement of copyright intended. Not for profit. 
> 
> Warnings: language, discussion and descriptions of psychological torture 
> 
> Note: My thanks to Nancy, Alex and Linda G for assistance with this. This is a sequel to 'Catch' and is the third story in the 'Held' series. The next story is 'Flight'.

My first week back at work - Ben's first on his own after we freed him - goes smoothly. He starts with the RCMP-picked psychologist and finds him a stand up guy. He thinks he will really help, and that's a relief for me.  I can _deal_ with the nightmares, the hundred and one little things that freak Ben out, but I don't know how to _stop_ them, and that's the important thing.  Ben's also decided he'll try swimming after all - his fitness is really coming on -  and so I stop off at the pharmacist one night on the way home and pick up something one of the women at work told me about. "It's water proof, you see - completely covers the scars. It's for things like birthmarks."

He's grateful, even though he thinks it's a little bit like lying. "Nah," I tell him, "it's just to protect other people - it'll stop them freaking about using a pool with a junkie." When he looks at it from that point of view, he's happy. I don't know what people will think about Ben's skinniness but they didn't know what he looked like before, so maybe to a stranger he doesn't look so bad. Not.

After the week of mandatory desk duty Welsh approves me to start back on the street with Peter Morrow. It's always hard breaking in a new partner, and I feel sorry for him that he drew the short straw, getting the loony gay detective. But it turns out that he's heard of me from way back when I was undercover as Vecchio, and always thought it might be fun to partner me.  He's a quiet guy, married with a young daughter - nothing like Don, which makes everything easier. We don't talk about Don, which suits me fine - I try hard not to even think about him. Pete's not nosey, which is good. We talk about Ben getting better, and about what me and him did in Canada. Like Pete says, he's not looking to be best buddies - but I think in time, we could be friends.

Peter and me handle everything together, except the Don Arnulfson case. Actually, there's not a lot happening at our end. Don's house has been searched, and Mark Hightower's apartment gone over again since it's clear the scene was planted with evidence by my former partner.  It would be nice to have more evidence linking Don to Hightower's murder, even though the mirror journal is pretty damning. So is the fact that Ben was not murdered by Hightower as the 'journal' found in the dead junkie's apartment said, but was in fact being held prisoner by the detective investigating Hightower's murder _and_ Ben's disappearance.  What a cluster fuck that turned out to be. Don's not talking, and we don't know what his defense will be, or even he'll make one. Ben and me don't talk about it much - there's a whole lot of not talking about my shithead ex-partner and ex-friend going on in all directions. It's just too fucking raw - take the feeling of betrayal you get when your wife or husband screws around with your best friend, and double it, and you get a little idea of what it's like for a cop when his partner does him over.

Ben goes back to work a month after I do, much to everyone's surprise. Our doctor thought two months, so did his boss, but Ben's convinced the shrink that since he does a desk job he'll be fine if he can have ongoing counseling. He's physically up to it - still underweight, but acceptable for starting back. I'm pleased and I'm scared about him returning - which is pretty much how he feels. However much he tells himself that the heroin addiction wasn't his fault - and it _wasn't_ -  the truth of the matter is that he is still addicted, and will be for months. It's not like he's out looking for a fix, or even at risk of wanting it. He gets itchy when he's stressed, and he knows it's the drug - at times like that, we go for a long walk, he swims, we eat ice cream on the beach, I give him a long massage or we have a bath together. But he's afraid - not the right word, concerned - about how people will see him when they find out. It's on his medical records, along with the notes about his confinement. He still has this dream of working in the field again but wonders if he'll ever be allowed to - whether he can allow himself. His self-image took a huge knock, and for a man who was used to being admired as a brave, good looking, strong person, to be seen as a weak, skinny victim was hard. I don't know what to do for him except love him.

As the date for Don's trial comes up, four months on, we hit a problem we weren't expecting - the media. The grand jury indictment didn't excite any interest, but all of a sudden, we're knee deep in reporters. Don's being a cop and what he did is bad enough, but a week before the trial is due to start some dipshit digs up some old stories about Ben - and me - about Beth Botrelle, Muldoon, the _Whaling Yankee._ We start being door-stepped at work and at home and Ben is really finding that hard - he never liked talking to the press and he likes it even less now. The RCMP press office helps a little, helps Ben issue a  press statement and the coverage of 'the victim' is sympathetic, but I have to make him not read the newspapers or watch the TV coverage. He even starts having nightmares again, something we thought we were done with two months ago. I find him in the kitchen at two a.m. three days before the trial, drinking milk, his face grim. "Come to bed, Ben. "

"I can't sleep."

"Worrying about the press? Don't - you know this isn't about you."

"Oh no? Whose picture are they plastering all over the front pages? Whose life are they detailing in every conceivable way? I thought I had no privacy chained up naked - this is worse." It's a wonder the glass in his hand doesn't dissolve from the acid in his voice. I put my arms around him but he's stiff, like he wishes I wouldn't touch him. "You realize our relationship will come up in court, don't you?"

I let him go and step back. "What will you do if it does?"

"What will you do?" he asks bitterly. "It's your police force who is likely to make your life difficult. The RCMP and Canadian law does offer me some protection. Anyway - who the hell cares?"

He stomps off into the living room while I try to get my head around the fact he's pissed off enough to curse. I know it's not me he's angry with - but I'm the one in the firing line. "Ben - come back to bed. Nothing makes sense at this time in the morning. Why don't you call in sick - I can get a day off, we can get out of town, take things easy."

"And then come back to this?"

"It's better than being here the whole time. I don't know what else to offer. It's hitting me too, you know. It's going to get worse, not better, once the trial starts, and all I know is that if we don't do it together, we can't do it at all."

I try putting my arms around him again and this time he lets me. I just hold him like that for a half hour or more, before I realize he's fallen asleep. It's not the world's most comfortable position, but if this is what it takes for him to get some rest, I'll do it. I pull the afghan off the back of the sofa and pull it over both of us. Eventually I sleep too, but the dreams are horrible.

The further we drive out of Chicago, the less tense Ben is. We mess about up on Lake Geneva which has become our place to get away from things. It's a lot colder now, but in some ways Ben likes it better. He's homesick, I know that, but until this fucking trial gets out of the way, we aren't talking about heading to Canada for our vacation. He's not sure he can face Maggie yet - she writes, calls, he replies, but he likes to be at a distance from her. I'm the only person he's close to - not that he was ever surrounded by friends, but people like the Vecchios, Maggie - Welsh - he hardly even mentions, let alone contacts.  The biggest irony is that next to me, the only person he really likes having around is my partner. Now that, I figured, would never happen but he likes Pete's quiet no-nonsense manner, he likes the fact he's got a stable family life away from the PD, and Pete thinks Ben is cool. We've been to dinner a couple of times with him and his wife, and Ben's had lunch with us at work a few times. He even helped us on a case or two. Doesn't sound like much, but when you think of the trust issues, it's amazing.

The night before the trial, Ben finally gives in and takes a sleeping pill. He offered to sleep on the sofa to stop waking me up but I wouldn't let him and I told him it was his duty to be well-rested before giving evidence. He's the main witness, of course, but I have to testify, so does Pete, as well as the technical people. They figure two, maybe three days at most. Don's gone for the 'not guilty' option - he wasn't offered a plea bargain - which means it's all going to come out in court. Ben's right - we're going to be out at the end of this. I'm too tired to care - I just want this over, Don out of our lives and locked up in a some horrible hole like he kept Ben in for the rest of his life.

Ben wears his red uniform, of course, which makes him look good and normal weight, which he, in fact, nearly is now.  Physically, mentally, he's amazed everyone - everyone but himself, since he doesn't think he's as good as he should be. I'm the other one not surprised, but only because I know he _is_ amazing. The only problem from the trial point of view is that it might be hard to convince the jury things were as bad as they were. I wish now someone had taken a photo of Ben in that cell, but that would have been unthinkable at the time.

I'm called to the stand after the forensic people. Even though I'd prepared myself as much as I could for it, seeing Don again is literally like being punched in the gut - all the air leaves my chest, my stomach hurts and I want to throw up.  I clench my jaw and force myself to breathe normally, to walk normally and to take the oath in a steady voice. I state my name, rank and badge number for the court, then the prosecution lawyer starts.

"Detective Kowalski, how long have you known the defendant?"

"Two and a half years."

"And you worked with him for how long?"

"Two years."

"Can you tell the court what happened on the night of May 20th this year?"

"I went to the defendant's house to feed his cat. While at the house, Corporal Fraser's dog began to act in a manner which indicated that suspicious activity may be occurring in the basement of the house, so I investigated and found Corporal Fraser chained in a room in the basement." I could almost hear Ben saying 'that was a beautiful paragraph, Ray.'

Don's not looking at me. He's staring at the table, hasn't lifted his head at all.

"Can you describe what you saw when you opened the door to this room?"

"Corporal Fraser was lying on his side on a mat, with a metal collar around his neck attached by a chain to the wall. There was a plastic bucket in the room and nothing else."

"And what was Corporal's Fraser's physical appearance like?"

"He was naked, very thin, shaking, and unconscious. He was, uh, lying in his own feces. There were also marks on his arms which indicated drug use."

"Who was with you at the time of the discovery?"

"Constable Margaret Mackenzie, Corporal Fraser's sister."

"Why was she with you, detective?"

"She was paying me a visit at the time, and had come with me while I ran the errand to the defendant's house."

The lawyer checks her notes. "That's all. Your witness," she said to the defense.

This guy has an uphill struggle but he isn't giving up just yet. I know him from other cases - he's a shark.

"Detective Kowalski, you say you went to the defendant's house to feed his cat, and yet you took a dog with you."

"Yes, I did."

"Do you always take this dog with you when you go out?"

"Yes, he's Corporal Fraser's dog and I was looking after him while the corporal was missing."

"Detective, is it true this dog attacked the defendant just three days before when he came to your house for dinner?"

"Yes."

"Is it not also true that he specifically asked you not to bring the dog to his house because his cat wouldn't like it?"

"Yes."

"Could you tell the court why you decided to disregard this explicit request of the defendant's?"

"The dog followed me in."

"I see. So you enter the house to feed the cat, and then the dog acts in a peculiar way, you said - could you describe what he did?"

"He started to scratch at the basement door."

"You didn't think this may  have been related to the cat's presence?"

"No, sir. I was holding the cat."

"Very well. You enter the basement because the dog's behavior troubles you. Why did you then proceed to pick the lock on a locked private room in that basement?"

"Dief was whining at the door. I believe that there was good reason to investigate."

"You were not just off-duty at the time, were you, Detective. You were in fact on medical leave, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And why was that?"

"I suffered a psychotic episode five weeks previously."

"Oh? Were you hospitalized?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Four weeks."

"So at the time you discovered Corporal Fraser, you were a week out of the hospital, is that correct?"

"Yes." I could see where this was going.

"Is it possible you imagined the conditions in which you found Corporal Fraser - the chain, the feces, and so on?"

"No. Constable Mackenzie saw it too, and so did the paramedics."

"You don't think you imagined the dog's 'strange' behavior?"

"No."

"You didn't just decide to go looking around the defendant's home on a whim?"

"No, I did not." So far, I haven't told a single lie. Maggie isn't going to be called, and her affidavit was also carefully worded. The lawyer gives up this line of attack.

"Detective, may I ask what is your relationship with Corporal Fraser?"

"He's my closest friend, and we share an apartment."

"So the stress of his disappearance must have been considerable."

"Yes."

"Was your psychotic episode related to this stress in any way?"

"Yes."

"It in fact caused it, is that not true?"

"So they tell me."

"'They' being the doctors, is that correct?'

"Yes."

"Detective - the corporal isn't just your friend, is he? He's your lover, isn't he?"

The prosecution objects right away, the judge slaps her down and I know exactly what this asshole is fishing for.

"Could you answer the question? Are you and Corporal Fraser lovers?"

"Yes."

Okay - that cat is out of the bag. The jury's got more women than men on it, so I hope they don't care, but I know why he wanted this to come out.

"So one might assume that you would be desperate to revenge any wrong done to him?"

The prosecution objects again and gets her way.

"I'll withdraw it.  No further questions."

I'm told I can sit down. Fuck it. So now the jury thinks my judgment's cloudy and I'm an unreliable witness. Maybe they should've called Maggie down after all, but they didn't think they needed her. Ben, I let you down, I say in my head. He's the next one called. He glances at me, keeping it cool - he doesn't know that everyone in the room knows we're shagging like rabbits.

The prosecution runs through Ben's statement and the medical details of his condition, which gets some little shocked gasps from the jury. Don doesn't look at him, and Ben keeps his eyes on me when he isn't looking at the lawyer. He looks very pale - I'm hoping he won't pass out. Then he's handed over to the defense, and for two cents, I'd grab Ben, run right out the court room and not stop until we hit Canada. I know he's in for the roughest of rough rides, and if I didn't hate Don before, I'd hate him for this.

"Corporal, it must have been a distressing experience for you. Can I ask how well you knew the defendant before you were kidnapped?"

"Not well. I'd met him several times through Detective Kowalski, but it was a nodding acquaintance only."

"So you deny that you ever asked the defendant for sexual favors?" More shocked gasps. The prosecutor yells, the judge yells back, and tells Ben to answer the question.

"Yes, I do deny that."

"Do you also deny you are a homosexual?"

"Yes."

"You have slept with men?"

"Yes."

The prosecution blows a gasket and the judge tells the guy to keep it relevant, which he says it is.

"Corporal, are you in a relationship at the moment?"

"Yes."

"Who with?"

"Ray Kowalski."

"That being Detective First Grade Stanley Raymond Kowalski? The defendant's former partner?"

"Yes."

"But you say that despite this, you didn't know the defendant well."

"That is correct."

"Corporal, are you a drug user?"

"No."

"Were you a drug user before you were kidnapped?"

"No."

"So you didn't ask the defendant to supply you with heroin?"

"No."

"You became addicted to heroin though, didn't you?"

"Yes. I was forcibly injected with heroin while being kept prisoner."

"Forcibly, corporal? You didn't inject yourself at any time?"

"Yes, I did."

"How many times, roughly?"

"I don't know. A couple of dozen."

"I see. I put it to you, corporal, that you asked the defendant for sexual favors, which he granted, you asked him for heroin, which he gave you, and that  your confinement in the defendant's home was entirely at your own request as part of a sexual ritual."

"None of that is true." Ben's gone completely white, and I can see his hands gripping the stand from here. He wasn't expecting this.

"I put it to you that you were a willing participant in your own confinement, and injected yourself with heroin willingly and freely, and the reason for your prolonged disappearance was that you were unable to face up to your own addiction and your homosexuality."

"No. I was chained and unable to leave."

"By choice."

"No."

The lawyer looks smug. "No further questions."

The prosecution wants another go. "Corporal, why did you inject yourself with heroin?"

"I wasn't allowed to eat until I did so ... and I was hungry. Starving."

"Despite that, were there times when you did not inject yourself?"

"Yes."

"How many?"

"Perhaps a dozen or so."

"If you didn't inject yourself, what happened?"

"I received no food, and then I would be injected in my sleep."

"You knew this because?"

"The feeling when I woke, and I could feel the injection site."

"Thank you, corporal. I have only one other question and that is concerning your sexuality. How many people have you had sexual relationships with in your life?"

"Three, including Detective Kowalski."

"Male? Female?"

"Two male, one female."

"When was your other male relationship?"

"When I was seventeen."

"How old are you now?"

"Forty one."

"Thank you. No further questions."

Ben is let go. He looks like he's about to puke, so I grab his arm and walk him out to the men's room. I sit him on the floor.  "I'm sorry, sorry Ray," he mumbles, his breath catching. He still looks like he might be sick.

I crouch down next to him. "That was bad."

"You think?"

"Yeah, I do. Why don't we go home?"

"What about the rest of the trial?"

"We can come back for the verdict, but the press are going to be all over this and you're in no state. Come on."

When we walk out of the bathroom, a shitstorm of reporters and cameras and flashes hits us. Ben looks like a wounded animal, but then a man mountain pushes through, grabs us both and pulls both of us out to my car.  I knew Welsh was in the courtroom but I wasn't expecting him to help us out here - he keeps the reporters away until all three of us are in the car and driving away. "Kowalski, I'll come home with you, all right?"

I'm too surprised to argue and Ben is lost in his own thoughts - I'm not sure he even noticed Welsh was there.

Welsh helps me get Ben upstairs - man, he has really lost it. Ben heads to the bathroom to change and to wash the court away. I come out to make tea for him and to talk to my boss. "What you want to do about this?" Welsh asks.

"Do? What can we do? Everyone knows that Ben and me are faggots. End of story."

"I can speak to people at the precinct for you."

I stir the tea slowly. "What difference would it make?"

"Perhaps none. But it's not the end of the world, Ray - you're well liked, Fraser's well liked. There's going to be as much sympathy as anything else."

"I hope so."

"I know so. Look - take tomorrow off, the trial is going to last that long for sure and neither of you need to hear that shit or deal with reporters. I'll square it with Fraser's boss too."

"Thanks. God, lieu, when is Don gonna stop hurting us? I mean, look at Fraser - he's been doing so well, but now he's a mess."

"Not completely," Ben says dryly, coming out dressed in sweats. "Hello, Lieutenant, I must apologize for my condition earlier."

"For Christ's sake, Fraser, when are you going to stop apologizing for shit that's not your fault!" I slam the mug in front of him, sloshing tea everywhere and walk away to the sofa. I hear Welsh say something to Ben and then our door open and close.  Ben comes over. "Don't," I say. I don't know if he's about to say sorry again, or chew me out, or what. I just can't at the moment.

He drinks his tea, looking at me, his eyes red and still looking pale and ill.  I want to kill Don, I literally want to shoot him. "I can't do this any more, Ben." He waits for me to explain. "The whole thing - you me, the PD, him. I can't handle it."

"Are you saying you would like us to separate?"

"Jesus, no. I ... fuck ... I guess I'd just like to head on up to the North Pole for a while."

"I know what you mean. Perhaps we should take that vacation sooner rather than later."

"Maybe.  God, I wasn't expecting any of that."

"Neither was I, obviously." He finishes his tea and sits next to me, and I put my arms around him and hold him. Words are just no good for this.

In an hour or so, we both feel a little calmer. We eat a late lunch, take Dief for a walk - no reporters around which is good. The  forecast for tomorrow is for wet, cold and windy weather so we go to the store, stock up on comfort food and videos, put the phone onto the answer machine and we hunker down for 24 hours. We plan to go out next when the verdict is due, and not before. Ben's withdrawn, angry - he was doing fine until this, better than anyone expected, but it's like the garbage he didn't get the first time around has hit him in the head all at once. He doesn't even want me to talk to him, or hold him that much, although he'd not pushing me away. He's just deep in his own head and I let him be.

He wanted to be there for the final day of the trial for the summing up but I told him that he'd be better off not hearing the defense repeating all the crap Don's thought up. Pete calls and says the jury has gone out so we arrange to meet him at the courthouse. By the time we get there, the jury's been out an hour. The prosecutor tells us she's confident of at least one of the charges sticking and Ben thanks her for her efforts. I can tell she feels guilty over what happened to him, but he doesn't blame her. Neither do I.

Three hours later we hear the jury's coming back in, so we all file in to hear the verdict. Welsh is there too. Ben has gone whiter than a ghost, and the lieutenant stands on one side of him, me on the other, ready to get him if he passes out.

Guilty. All charges. Ben squeezes my hand with one that is icy cold, but I think the expression on his face is relief. Don has no expression on his face at all. Don't care. Should have cared - I forgot he's a control freak. It's like it happens in slow motion when he dives for the deputy, knocks him down easily - he's a big guy - and takes the man's gun, shoots the other deputy coming for him.  Then he grabs the States Attorney. I jump the chairs and grab the injured man's gun, aim it at my former partner. "Drop it, Arnulfson." I fumble my glasses on and draw a bead on his head.

"Not likely, Ray." He's holding the gun on the prosecutor. "You, Fraser. Come here or I'll shoot her."

No. Jesus, no. Welsh has his hand on Ben's arm to stop him, but Ben peels his fingers off and walks slowly over to Don, no argument. I guess if anyone knows how crazy this bastard is, Ben does. Don shoves the lawyer away and just as quick has Ben around the neck, lifting him off his toes. Don's as tall as Welsh, four inches taller than Ben and he's choking him, the gun pressed into his neck.

"You can't get away, Don, you know that," Welsh says in that reasonable way he has.

"Thank you, lieutenant, I'm aware of that.  That's not what I want. All I want is Fraser here. If I go, he goes."

Even when Don says that, Ben's eyes never leave my face, and he's cool. He's got his hands at Don's arm but only to so he can get some air. The court guards are paralyzed - uniformed cops are starting to come in but Welsh tells them to back off. "What do you want, Don?"

"I told you."

"You want to leave here?"

"Not upright. Ray, say good-bye."

I'm sweating. Please, God, don't let my hand shake. Ben moves a hand - the start of a thumbs up - just as I see Don's finger move. I fire as Ben goes completely limp, forcing Don to drop him. Don's head explodes as Ben is falling to the floor, and for a second I don't know if Don's weapon discharged. I drop the gun. My legs are like lead - I can't move forward, but I can drop to my knees. Welsh runs to Ben and pulls him away from Don's body. There's blood and brains all over him. Welsh looks at me, nods, smiles. Ben's okay. Ben's okay. God.

It's a good job there are so many witnesses because making a statement is uh, hard. Talking is hard. Welsh is making noises about sending me and Ben to the hospital - a clerk is wiping Ben off but he's still on the ground and it looks like his legs are as rubbery as mine. People are clustering around the injured guard, looks like he's not too bad. Don's body is covered up, but left where it fell - they have to make a report out just like any other death. But I'm not doing it today. That's the only clear thing I manage to get out - I do not want either of us to go anywhere but home.  While the rest of them are arguing about how the hell they're gonna get out us out of the courthouse and past the reporters, I crawl over to Ben, who's still sitting on the floor, his uniform covered in ... covered. His eyes are wide and full of pain. "Are you hurt?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "You okay?"

"Maybe. It's over, Ben."

He looks at me pityingly. "No it's not. It's just beginning."

I take his hand. Nobody's looking at us, but I don't care. He's right. The shit just hit the fan.


End file.
